


Fascination

by Judgement



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judgement/pseuds/Judgement
Summary: There was just something about you that fascinated him.[Lucifer x Reader]IMPORTANT UPDATE IN NEWEST CHAPTER REGARDING FATE OF SERIES





	1. Chapter 1

“You usually don’t have guests when I come for a visit,” Lucifer speaks casually, eyeing you between the two men who are nothing but an amusing thorn in his side. They both instinctively take a step forward and closer to each other, blocking you partially from view.

He rolls his eyes, and with a flick of his wrist both boys are flung to opposite sides of the room, held against the wall. 

“Shit-”

“Lucifer I swear to Go-”

“Relax,” He takes a step forward and you instinctively take one back. And though your heart is beginning to pound in your chest because your body knows it is in danger, but you can’t bring yourself to care - the apathetic expression on your face doesn’t change. “I just want a closer look, she’s different from you boys.”

“Different how?” Dean grunts out, attempting to pry himself off the wall but knowing it’s useless. 

“She’s like you Sammy,” Lucifer tosses out the nickname to his vessel, giving him a glance as he stops in front of you, one hand reaching out to tilt your head up. You swallow apprehensively, the adrenaline is rushing through your system and you know it’s a fight or flight response, but you don’t _care_. “Except where all your anger comes from is different. You want to save people, save your family, save the _world_. That frustration that you can’t, that it doesn’t end and that you can’t live a _normal_ happy life.” He looks at Sam as he says this then tilts his head down to look at you, tugging at your bottom lip.

“But her? Wherever did you find her?” He presses his fingers against the edges of your lips, forcing a smile to reflect his. “You still loved your family, Sam. Still loved your dad despite the arguments and being unable to see eye to eye. You’d take a bullet for him.”

He doesn’t look away from your eyes, and something prevents you from looking away from his. 

“[Name]-” Dean warns but he’s pressed harder against the wall and his warning ends in a grunt.

“But her? She’ll gladly be on the other end, pulling that trigger to end their lives.”

Your lips twitch from his fingers, pulling down into a frown as you furrow your eyebrows. The edging guilt and anxiety coming forth but the little voice in the back of your head, angry and viscous drowns it out. 

“Thou shall honor thy mother and father.” He says and there’s a twitch of a snarl on your lips that absolutely delights him. 

“But you’d rather kill them, wouldn’t you? You’ve got such a darkness festering inside of you it’s making me a bit giddy. I didn’t think you creatures were capable of it.. I mean some of you slaughter and kill.. but you, you my dear, are so very peculiar.” 

“Why?”

You finally ask, your voice is quiet and he tilts his head as he studies you.

“That little voice in the back of your head, all that built up anger at the world, at the people around you and your family. If you had the power you’d take them all into your hands and crush them.” He’s smiling, “I like that about you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” 

“Leave [Name] alone.” Sam warns, glaring at Lucifer who looks over at him only for a moment before focusing his attention back onto you.

“But she’s so fascinating and you haven’t told me where you found her..”

“In the city of fuck you and the corner of none of your business.” Dean bites out angrily, and with a flick of Lucifer’s wrist Dean’s lips snapped shut, unable to open them.

“That’s not nice, Dean.” He throws an bemused glance toward the elder Winchester and suddenly there’s pain spreading throughout your chest. A gasp escaping your lips but the hand pressing into your chest and grasping your soul keeps you from stumbling backward or falling over.

“[Name]!” Sam shouts, horrified as he stares at Lucifer’s hand encasing your chest, the glow of your soul spilling from the hole he’s made.

It’s agonizing and even when he removes his hand from your chest, the hole no longer apparent and your soul still intact, every nerve feels on fire. 

“You trust the Winchesters about as far as you can throw them. Do you trust anyone? In fact.. I wonder why your soul is so different from others?” He leans in to your hunched form that’s clutching at the ache in your chest.

“Different?”

“Lacking.”

You tilt your head up at him, not understanding.

“You’re missing a piece dear, the puzzle was never fully put together before it was put inside you. Ever wonder why it’s so difficult to care for things? Your body runs on the basic human instinct, but _you_ , you don’t feel it, do you?” You bite down on the inside of your cheek, glaring up at him as the angry voice in the back of your head screams. 

He tilts his head and smiles, “Well, that’s something. You feel, but so very little. The biggest emotions you can bring yourself is that little angry voice constantly screaming in your head. What is it like? To lack the capacity that your peers have? To be unable to understand the lengths that these two go for each other? Could you do the same?”

You wanted to say yes, but the only reason was a sense of obligation, you owed them. They had saved you from your personal hell as a demon play toy, and took you under their wings, protected you. But could you say you cared for them, like family? Loved them?

What did that even feel like?

He waves his hand in a lazy manner and both the Winchester collapse onto the floor in an exhausted heap. 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” His finger flicks the tip of your nose and in an instant he’s gone. Leaving two confused boys, with so many questions that you didn’t have answers to.

“I’m missing a piece?” Your hands clutch your chest. 


	2. Calling

The knife cut and tore deeper with each movement, the stench of blood filling up your nose as you slam into a door, throwing it open and pressing your back against it to shut tightly. Keeping your weight as shaky hands tremble with the lock.

“Fuck, fuck.” You murmur, moving one hand awkwardly to your back with fingers brushing against the handle of the knife still lodged. The small shift from your fingers is like lighting your nerves on fire, black dots dance rapidly against your vision and for a moment all you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears. Eyes rapidly blinking and trying to focus and keep yourself from passing out, immediately ripping your hands away from the knife and pressing it against your thigh. Rubbing the slick red substance onto your pants.

There had suddenly been an overwhelming amount of demons, and pushing against the tide hadn’t helped any. You had found yourself separated from the two boys, facing off against a few demons by yourself. Luckily you had managed to handle yourself well enough until a fourth one came from nowhere, plunging the knife straight into your side from behind. You were sure your scream had reached wherever the boys had been, but you didn’t have time to wait. Blocking out the pain best you could as you elbowed one demon out of the way and took off down the long winding hallway.

Until you found yourself locked in this small room on the second floor, where dropping out the window would likely break your legs if it didn’t kill you outright. You were going to have to find a way to remove the knife before it ended up becoming more of a problem, but at the time you had been worried ripping it out would just cause you to bleed out faster.

“Okay, [Name].” Your hands are trembling, limping over to the curtains and grabbing them to yank them down. You could rip it with the knife after you pulled it out and use the fabric to try and staunch the wound, to prevent further bleeding until you could get stitches. “We can do this.”

Your fingers twitch, one hand clutching tightly onto the fabric of the curtains while the other reaches around to the handle. The brush of your fingers sends another shockwave of pain that sends blood rushing to your ears so you don’t hear the door coming down on its hinges until there’s a hand pressing hard on your shoulder.

“Need help with that?” The voice says and your heart jumps as you look back to see the demon who had snuck up on you in the first place, his hand so heavy your legs give and you’re on your knees. “I need this back.”

He rips it out of your back and a scream of pain erupts from your mouth, smothered out by the hand that clasps over it.

“Shh, you’ll wake the whole neighborhood sweetheart. We don’t want the Winchesters hearing now do we?”

“I don’t think it’s the Winchesters you should be worried about.”

The blood rushing in your ears blocks out the noise and only when the heavy hand leaves your shoulder does your body slump forward. One hand pressing to the gushing wound at your back with a small whimper. It’s when you turn around to back away from your attacker that you see him and your heart beats wildly.

You should be a lot more afraid than you are.

“Lucifer,” You breathe out and he takes a long side long glance, the edges of his lips twitching at your bleeding form before looking back to the demon frozen at the tip of his outstretched fingers pressing to their forehead.

“I thought I made myself clear?”

“W-we-” Lucifer tilts his head, dragging his fingers down the demons face and watching the slow line of blood follow as they clench their eyes tightly shut.

“Do you want the honors [Name]?” He speaks very softly, looking over at your panting and heaving form. The sweat on your brow and how pale you’ve become, the blood soaking the throw carpet and down into the wood below it.

You sway to your feet, the tiny voice in the back of your head prompting you forward and each step is heavy and your vision is faded, black edges creeping in but you manage. One step closer and closer to him, and there’s the arch angel blade in his free hand, holding it out to you with a small sadistic smile.

“Take it.”

You do as you’re told, hand grasping the blade and you look at the demon who made you bleed and your face screws up in anger in pain.

“Fuck you.”

You jam the blade into their gut, taking satisfaction in the way the blade makes the light pulse beneath their skin, flickers of their skeleton against their light before you yank the blade out. Stumbling back a few steps, one hand still attempting to keep the bleeding at bay, but the position is awkward and difficult to do so.

Your legs give out but you don’t hit the ground, instead you see Lucifer hovering over you, one arm beneath your back keeping you from falling.

“I need you to keep it safe.” He’s speaking but he sounds so much further away than he actually is. His hand trailing over yours as he gently plucks the blade from your hand before pressing its flat side against your abdomen. It’s painful at first, a small cry pressing past your lips that he frowns at and quietly hushes.

“Shh, shh.”

When the light and pain fade away, he presses one hand against your back and wide a swipe of his hand the pain is gone. You furrow your eyebrows at him, you know there are thousands of questions on the tip of your tongue but you can’t get them past your lips, like you’re paralyzed beneath his hands. His fingers move to your forehead and before you know it, the darkness completely takes over your vision.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speed uploading these, I don't remember what i named the titles on tumblr.

You wake with a start, lurching up into an upright position, chest heaving as your eyes glance around the room wildly. Fully expecting to wake up in a room full of demons and one angry fallen angel, but instead you were greeted your room in the bunker. Your heart pounding rapidly as you remember the events that had happened before the world drifted away, and you lifted up your shirt. The stitches you had expected to be there with the knife wound wasn’t anything but smooth skin, and you prodded your back awkwardly to double check.

_I need you to keep this safe._

Trembling fingers traveled over where his had been, and you nearly yelped when the white angelic glow shimmered beneath your hand. Hesitantly placing your hand over your chest once more, the harsh warmth making you flinch and you could feel the handle of the angle blade, wrapping your fingers around it and pulling it from the white glow. There was no blood, no wound, the spot on your chest faded away as if it had never been there in the first place.

 His archangel blade sat heavy in your hands. 

“Dean, I just checked on h-” 

The door opens and your wide eyes are met with the surprised ones of the Winchesters who go from your face to the familiar looking silver blade sitting in your hand. 

“[Name].” Dean says cautiously, like attempting to approach someone about to hurt themselves and you give a shaky laugh. Is that what this looks like? 

“I, ah,” You lick your lips, feeling your palm begin to sweat as it clutches the blade. “What happened?” 

“That’s uh,” Sam said slowly entering the room with his brother, brows furrowed in his own confusion. “That’s what we were hoping you’d tell us. When we got there the room was..” 

“Completely exorcised of demons.”

 “What?” 

“Angel mojo all over the place.” Dean wasn’t sugar coating anything, and Sam’s expression against him went ignored. You were thankful for Dean’s blunt attitude but you were still trying to understand it yourself, let alone answer any of their questions. 

“Lucifer-” 

“ _Lucifer?_ ” Sam echoed, his entire posture immediately tense and you sent him an apologetic glance. 

“I uh, was- we got separated. I was fighting, then there were too many of them. One came up behind and stabbed me.” Your hand unconsciously moves to the spot, a phantom pain of it lingering in the back of your mind. “I ran for it to try and find you or.. Give myself some time to come up with something. I uh, locked myself in a room, was planning to pull the knife out and wrap it the best I could but they got in.” 

“Then what?” Sam asked carefully. 

“One yanked the knife out, and when I managed to turn around he was there.” 

“Lucifer?” 

You nodded slowly, staring down at the blade in your hands. “He uh, grabbed the demon and gave me his blade to stab them. I.. I did, and I don’t remember anything after that.. Other than..” You held the blade up loosely in your hands for them to see. 

“He helped you _and_ gave you his archangel blade? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Lucifer here?” 

“It’s kind of hard to forget what his peeling vessel looks like.” You shoot, clearly irritated. “But how did he even find me?” 

“Your enochian sigils were removed.” Castiel says as he steps into the room, looking confused and grim at the same time - in the way only the angel knew how to pull off. 

“Removed?” You placed your hands onto your chest. 

“Yes, when they brought you back I made sure you weren’t wounded and.. Your sigils have been removed. How did you remove them?” 

“I didn’t!” You’re breathless at the accusation, though you know he doesn’t mean to make it sound like that. “Why would I remove them and put myself- all of us in danger?” 

“She didn’t, but maybe.. Lucifer did.” Sam looks over at you and Dean looks confused for a moment. 

“When Lucifer reached into her.” Sam made an awkward gesture to your chest and it was like realization had dawned on everyone in the entire room. 

“Well, p-put them back.” You didn’t want _Satan_ on your tail for whatever reason. Hastily standing to your feet and looking to Castiel expectantly, and he moves to oblige your request. His hand pressing against your collarbone and his eyes close as he concentrates. 

You expect the stinging sensation like the first time, bracing for it by squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your hands into fists, the angel blade on the bed temporarily forgotten. But when no pain floods to the surface, you squint open an eye at Castiel’s furrowed expression, 

“Cas?” You quietly question and he closes his eyes once more, an expression similar to internal struggling briefly crosses his face before he removes his hand. 

“I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t?” Dean says, looking both from you and Castiel. 

“It means she can’t be branded.” You flick your eyes to the doorway to see Lucifer leaning up against the doorframe, and he lifts a hand to wiggle his fingers at you in greeting, but the three men stand in front of you and your hand goes to the blade on the bed. 

“Lucifer.” Sam greets, a twitch of his head as a frown mars his face. 

“Nice place you got here, I really wouldn’t have found it if you hadn’t brought her back.” He motions to you with a tilt of his head, and your heart drops when the Winchester boys look back at you cautiously before giving the devil their full attention. 

“What do you want?” They are never without their weapons, and Dean and Sam already have brandished their guns. Castiel has his own angel blade drawn, and ready at hand - posture stiff like everyone else save for the devil himself. 

“Such a hostile welcome, I’m not here to hurt anyone.” It comes out in a playful manner but Dean scoffs. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Look, you’re the ones with the weapons.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender and the boys raise their weapons to point it at him. It’s a flick of Lucifer’s wrist and their weapons are no longer in their hands, thrown across the room and pinned there in the same fashion that this all began in. 

“Where’s Cas?” You say noticing the absent angel, disappearing right when Lucifer had flicked his wrist. 

“Looks like he’s off to tell on me.” 

You inch back onto the bed clutching the angel blade tightly to you, he steps closer and you raise it up to strike. In the blink of an eye the four of you are in the middle of the bunker, your aim having sorely missed the Devil and instead you trip over the abrupt movement and teleport. Someone grabs you by the shoulders roughly and spins you around, draping his arm around your shoulders and leaning down. 

“I didn’t think you were one to _tattle_ Castiel.” Lucifer says slowly, his breath against your ear and you’re still clutching the blade in trembling hands as adrenaline hits. You should be _scared_ but your mind is only working on instinct, your position is one of danger and so you want _out_ but there is no fear in your bones. 

“Castiel what’s go- _oh._ ” You stare at God’s vessel who looks mildly surprised, the Winchester picking themselves up off the ground. 

“What do you mean _oh_?” Dean snaps, looking uneasily between Lucifer and you who were opposite sides of Castiel and Chuck..  Or rather _God_. 

“You drag me over for a lot of things.. But I never imagined it to be _this_.” Chuck says, looking at your form and a pained and apologetic smile crosses his face. 

“This? What is this?” Dean’s growing frustrated and Lucifer chuckles. 

“Yes, _dad_ , enlighten me. What is this?” His free hand comes up under your chin tilting it up just a fraction, and you swallow thickly with your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. Despite it’s hammering in your ribcage, you can’t feel a trace of fear within you and the expression across Chuck’s face slowly falls and his shoulder slump in something akin to defeat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any weird gaps in between commas and stuff. Unintentional, when copy pasting this stuff over the formatting gets wonky.

He’s staring at you- God is staring at you with such a pained expression it’s making your stomach a little sick. Your hands are slick with sweat, still clutching the angel blade tightly in your hands. Lucifer’s arm is heavy across your shoulders, his taller form leaning down so his head is closer to yours and you _know_ he is smiling.

“I don’t,” Your lips tremble, your _body_ is afraid of the position it is in, but you don’t _feel_ that fear. “I don’t mean to rush you but I have the devil on my shoulder, so if we could get to the point.” You wanted to know what all of this meant, why God recognized you. Why any of this was happening.

Why you were missing a piece.

Lucifer laughs and his breath brushes against your ear, an involuntary shiver crawling it’s way down your spine.

“I like her.” He says calmly, the hand wrapped around your shoulder patting you against your arm.

Chuck frowns, lips twitching down and his mouth opens, closes, eyes the two of you and he lets out a long sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“Well we’re not going anywhere.” Dean says, clearly frustrated now at the predicament everyone was in, that _you_ were in.

“Right, right.” Chuck says, resembling his vessel more than the almighty _God_ that everyone praised him to be. He was, maybe, but in this moment he looked confused, hurt, and you didn’t understand it. Didn’t know why.

“Any time now, before Lucifer decides to snap her neck.” Dean’s anger is growing, frustrated he can’t get you out of the situation, frustrated that none of this is making any sense. But Chuck is quick to respond, confidently.

“He won’t hurt [Name].”

“What makes you think I won’t?” Lucifer takes it as a challenge, the arm that’s not wrapped around your shoulder moves back to your chin and tugs on it.

“Because she’s your charge.” Chuck says finally, the sympathetic expression on his face wiped away to a more serious one as he eyes his favorite.

“ _What?_ ” Castiel finally speaks up, apparently knowing exactly what that means, but you’re still unsure of it. Chuck glances at Castiel and then back to the two of you.

“When I created humans,” He starts looking at Lucifer. “I wanted you all to live with them, peacefully, happily. For every angel there was going to be a human counterpart. I wanted you all to see _why_ I loved humans so much, and I wanted you to love them too.” His lips purse, a pained expression crossing his face.

“[Name], was- _is_ your charge, Lucifer.”

Lucifer isn’t moving, you aren’t sure if he’s even _breathing_.

“When I created her, I felt.. She would have been the perfect one for you to watch over. Just enough trouble to keep you on your toes, witty, sly, _funny_. Caring, kind. Everything I felt you embodied, too. But.. when you refused, when you fell-”

“You mean when you _cast me out_.” Lucifer corrects through clenched teeth, and the hand around your shoulder tightens.

“ _When you fell_ ,” Chuck continues, “I had only just begun picking each charge for each angel. [Name] was the first one to have been connected to you, I had wanted to _surprise_ you.”

“Color me surprised.” Lucifer says, his tone flat and unimpressed at this information.

“But you fell, and you took an army of angels with you- it screwed up the balance of things. There weren’t enough, I realized then that maybe giving each a charge wouldn’t work. Not if so many of you despised humans the way you did, I was afraid if I had connected everyone to an angel like I did you and [Name] it would end in disaster.”

“Connected?” Sam says slowly, inching forward to look at Chuck with a bewildered expression. Chuck looks over at him and sighs, glancing down at the ground and rubbing at his face.

“The myth that every person is one soul, torn in two?”

“That whole soulmate mumbo jumbo crap?” Dean asks, bemused.

“Yes, the foundation for that myth came from this. I planned to connect the two, so that you could share experiences better, _understand_ one another better and grow from it. But after Lucifer fell, I realized it wouldn’t be good. Not if more continued to fall.”

“I’m connected to _Lucifer?_ ” It slips past your mouth, the surprise in your tone matching your expression and Chuck looks over at you and smiles bitterly.

“Yes. You were the only ones I connected before it all fell apart, from there I decided since there were more human charges than angels, I would just assign them to watch over you, quietly, from the distance. To prevent anything happening again.”

“Is this why he said I’m missing a piece?” You blurt, Lucifer’s words about your missing puzzle piece ringing in your head.

“No, that was my doing.”

“Your doing?” It comes out of your mouth a whisper, disbelief.

“When Lucifer fell, you two were connected. Him being in hell was _agonizing_ for you, to feel the flames against your soul, to feel such hatred and anger within you. I didn’t know what else to do, some suggested I.. Some suggested things I refused to do.”

“Destroy her soul, you mean.” Lucifer clarifies for you, and Chuck nods slowly.

“I loved her too much, she’s my _child_. I didn’t.. I didn’t want to destroy her for my mistake, so I did the only thing I could think of. I took apart of her soul _out_.”

“Why don’t you tell her what piece?” You aren’t sure you want to know, you do but you don’t. Your fingers are trembling and you must be cold to be shaking his badly, but the little voice is asking where the fear is, why you aren’t scared. You know it has to do with that missing piece.

“I took out the portion of your ability to _feel_.”

“To feel?” You echo.

“Yes,” His expression is pained, and it hurts a part of you to see it. “It was the only thing I could do, I couldn’t remove the connection I had tried. I didn’t realize.. It wouldn’t separate. So I did the only thing I could do to ease your pain, I took away your ability to feel. Compassion, kindness, I took most of it. Others, like the anger, the fear, those are from Lucifer, muted because your ability to feel is gone, but you can feel that anger through his.”

The irrational anger, that always roared to life like a flame didn’t come from you, it came from Lucifer. You felt those things through _him_ and his ability to feel, not your own.

“If that’s the case why didn’t [Name] turn into some psychopath killer?” Dean asks, as if he isn’t buying this whole fairytale straight from a nightmare.

“Because she still knew right from wrong. Taking away her ability to feel didn’t take away her knowledge of right and wrong, she just.. Didn’t feel anything for either. Didn’t go on a _killing spree_ ,” He cast Dean a bemused expression. “Because her moral compass knew better.”

“So she’s mine.” Lucifer says in such a way that your entire body trembles, it knows fear but you do not.

“ _No_ ,” Chuck says, a hard look on his face. “She is not yours, she is not a _toy_ , if anything you were _hers_. Her guardian angel.”


	5. Chapter 5

A hysterical bubble of laughter peels from your lips, your trembling hands finally slipping and the dagger hits the ground. The clang against the flooring is loud, echoing in the space and everyone is staring at you. But you can’t stop the hysteria, the feeling is so foreign and unusual in your chest you don’t know what else to do other than _laugh_.

“This isn’t,” You struggle for the words, struggle to get them past the laughter that keeps slipping out. A pained laughter that expresses a lot of things to others but remains foreign to you, their pained looks only making the gut sinking feeling worse. “This is a joke, if I’m connected to _Lucifer_ why am I hearing about this now? I wasn’t born yesterday but I sure as hell wasn’t around before he _fell_.”

It didn’t make sense, you didn’t _want_ it to make sense.

The pained expression was on God’s face again and there was a spark of rage that burned angry tears against your eyes because you knew he was about to say more. Now, now you didn’t _want_ to know what he had to say.

“If you returned to heaven, your soul would heal and you would continue to suffer because of my mistake, because of the connection. I didn’t.. I didn’t want that for you, so I.. You’re an exception, you.. There is no afterlife for you, when you die your soul is reincarnated into another body. It keeps you from hell, from purgatory and from heaven, which with your connection, would be no different than hell.”

You could barely breathe at the news, how many lifetimes had you lived? How many times have you died, been reborn on this forsaken world, learned about God and prayed each night that whenever you died you’d be taken to heaven? That you were _sorry_ to God because of how indifferent you felt to his creations, to _everything_ and he was the cause of it all?

Something wet trails down your face and your hand reaches up to wipe it away, and then at the salty taste on your lips as another makes its way down you realize you’re _crying_. Were you hurt? Why were you reacting like this, why couldn’t you _feel_?

“[Name]-” Chuck takes a step toward you, a pained expression of a parent having told their child awful news and wishing to consolidate them. But you react much differently than he plans, your body seizes with anger and you take a step back, away from him.

“No, nonono-”

“[Name], I’m sorry I did this because I thought- I thought it was the best.”

“ _No,_ ” The anger is there, not because of you, but because of that connection you are able to reach into the angel behind you and tap into _his_ ability to feel. The anger is roared to life in your veins and you take another step back, bumping into the fallen angel who tilts his head down to watch the interaction between the two of you. “You don’t get to apologize. I prayed-” You started, voice cracking and you knew your body was in anguish, people had described the physical pain from it. It _had_ to be that. “I prayed every single night to you, hoping that tomorrow would go okay, that you would _forgive me_ for my apathy toward everything you had created. Toward _you_. But-but it was _you_ all along, _you_ are the reason I was- _am_ like this.”

“[Name], please.” His voice is soft, the hurt look on his face. He hadn’t wanted this for you, hadn’t wanted it to turn out like this - it was his mistake and he couldn’t _fix_ it without hurting or even destroying you. How could anyone ask him to kill one of his own children?

“If there’s no afterlife for me then what’s the _point_?” You bite out, the anger is there taken from Lucifer and your hands are threading through your hair. Pulling down at the strands to feel pain anywhere but the throbbing in your chest. “What am I even trying for? I don’t _get_ to go to heaven. My choices are hell, which is no different, and Purgatory? How are those options any different than what I’ve been doing? How is _any_ of that- any of this fair? I get to relive this shitty fucking _existence_ while everyone I know gets to move on?! So what, when they die I’m just- fucking- reborn back into this fucking endless _cycle_?!”

You throw your hand gesturing toward the Winchester brothers who are shocked silent, unable to come to your defense, unable to say anything.

“My options are here, hell, purgatory or simply not existing. Great, thanks.”

The impressed whistle behind you has you taking a startled step away from the devil, turning to face across from the Winchesters with God on your right and Lucifer on your left. Rubbing furiously at the tears that continue to unwillingly drip from your eyes even though you can’t _feel_ anything but a painful ache with no reason.

“Wow,” Lucifer finally says, voice dripping with satisfaction and amusement that makes the expression on Chuck’s face hard, frustrated, and upset. “Way to screw this up big time. Were you ever planning to tell her, let her remember? Or just keep her in the dark because she’s your failed creation.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the accusation.

 _Failed creation_.

“Can you feel that anger?” He is smiling at God, “She’s getting that from me, I have to say, I feel kind of proud. Though I have to wonder, exactly what kind of connection did you give us that you can’t rid of it?” Lucifer turns on his heel to face you, and God’s vessel looks horrified.

“Lucifer-”

The devil points his finger at you and it’s like an explosion inside your body. Agonizing and exhilarating at the same time. Fire burning through your veins, and you realize just how _helpless_ people really are, how dangerous angels were - how they didn’t decimate everything down to the ground simply because God didn’t want them to.

The scream rips past your throat, the fire burning against your very core, hands clutching over your chest as you stumble back a step with knees buckling together. The pain focuses, centers against your back and you feel the skin peeling. Blood dripping down and with a powerful and hot gust of air you collapse to your knees. The anger that had been thrumming through your veins extinguished, in the wake of the power the large ruined wings of Lucifer’s burned into the ground behind you. Scattered burn marks of feathers all around you, similar to the way angels left their mark on the ground when they died.

But these were Lucifer’s, you _knew_ by the way the burn marks on the ground were mangled, shredded and dozens if not thousands of feathers scattered about. His torn and broken wings were _yours_ too.

God’s fallen favorite and failed creation.

The warmth of blood still drips down your back, shuddering and shivering at the sensation. Your downcast gaze pulled away by the appearance of a hand, a familiar one with peeling burn marks across his skin and you slowly lift your head to look up at him.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? To have the one you loved and worshipped toss you away, believe me,” Lucifer’s dark gaze turns to land on God who remained still, bitter and hurt expression. “I would know.”

He kneels down, there’s a shuffle of movement behind him from the brothers that is abruptly stopped. By Castiel or God himself, he doesn’t even bother to check, his hand still out stretched to you.

“Stuck in an endless cycle, not allowed into the kingdom of heaven or hell. How many lives have you lived, endured, and forgotten only to endure again?”

There’s a lump in your throat and Dean and Sam are yelling at you, but their voices are drowned out in the distance compared to the devil’s.

“But it’s different this time around,” He says softly, “You have _me_ , no matter how many times you’re reborn, you will always have that connection with me. That _anchor_.”

If it was a lie, and you knew it probably was, oh how sweet sounding it was. For the thousands of lifetimes you’ve lived, died, and relived again - alone in each and every one. You would finally have someone who no matter how many times you were reincarnated would always remember you.

“Will you forget me?” Your voice is nothing but a desperate whisper and time seems to slow down. You can see the Winchester’s ripping themselves from what’s holding them back as they make a rush toward you. You can see their lips move, your name on their tongue as they shout for you but you drag your gaze back to the devil who’s smiling so sweetly. Despite the slit in his eyes, like the snake he’s depicted to be.

“I will never forget you.”

It’s all it takes, your hand is in his and the room is so hot and the broken feathers are burning against everything- burning against _you_ and devouring you whole until the two of you are gone, leaving nothing but the burned imprints of fallen feathers in your wake.


	6. Chapter 6

_This is wrong_.

You know it is, the small voice whispering in the back of your head makes it impossible to _forget_ . You shouldn’t have run away, fled the scene it was reckless and thoughtless and yet you don’t _care_. The emotional void is still there, and though your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute, you don’t feel a thing. You allow yourself the time to drown in the racing thoughts while gazing mindlessly across the church, the railing supporting your weight while your legs dangle over the edge. The Church is silent, a part of you thinks it’s funny, maybe a mockery of your life - how much you prayed to God only for him to be silent.

You were sitting in his house, and he was still silent.

“What is it like?” His voice breaks your thoughts away, and you pull your gaze away from the pews on the floor below and turn your head to face him for a brief moment. A brief puzzled expression crossing your face as he walks closer, fingers pressed together as he comes to lean against one of the wooden beams. “To not feel anything.”

_Oh._

You look away, staring back down at the pews with disinterest, kicking your feet slightly. “What’s it like to _feel_? Constantly. I’ve only glimpsed it through you, but it seems rather exhausting.” You counter, pressing your hands against the railing to keep yourself steady. A part of you should be afraid to be in the presence of the devil, but you don’t, you can’t bring yourself to move away or flee back to what should be safety.

God had known you were with the Winchesters, you had _met_ him several times before and he had chosen to say _nothing_ to you. Was this similar to betrayal? You didn’t feel anything, there was no anger nor sadness over it, it was a continuous empty feeling.

“He lied to you, you know.” Lucifer’s voice is casual and you’re forced to gaze over at him again, a churning feeling in your gut tells you you’re better off not knowing.

“If God really cared, really wanted to fix this- allow you into heaven. He could have just locked me up in a gilded cage in heaven.” His hand is beside his mouth like he’s whispering a secret to you, and your eyes are narrowing at him - at the information. “Why didn’t he? We’re connected, just pluck me from hell and put me in a locked box in heaven- or better _yet_ why take away your ability to feel? Why not mine?”

Your eyes are wide, and he’s grinning at you. Why _hadn’t_ God take away Lucifer’s ability to feel? It would have solved the issue of him falling, of being _angry_ and unable to bow to mankind, he would still be in heaven. It would have solved all the issues so why- _why_?

“It’s because I’m still his favorite.” Lucifer says confidently, dropping his hands and folding them in front of him. “Why change _me_ , when he can just change and make _you_ suffer?”

You could feel the edges of his anger slipping through the connection, the feeling of the wood beneath your hands as you clutch tightly onto the railing and dig your nails in. His cup was overflowing, pouring into your empty one and you couldn’t find a way to turn it off. Looking away from him suddenly and ignoring the wicked smile on his face as he watches your face scrunch up, the way your knuckles turn white against the wood.

“He didn’t want to change me, but he would change _you_ . I thought he loved humans. Loved _you_ .” He’s baiting you, and the voice in your head is warning you of it but his _anger_ is filling up your empty cup. You’re going to drown in it.

“He could have solved this, he could have told you- helped you. He had options, but he chose not to take any of them. He abandoned you.”

You don’t remember when you started to breathe so heavily, or when the red hazy edges to your vision came in. You just know that your chest is heaving, that the red bleeding into your vision wasn’t always there.

_Why hadn’t God done those things?_

Why hadn’t he taken Lucifer from hell, why did souls go to hell if all they were destined to become is demons, meant to continue and torture his beloved creations? Why didn’t he _help_? Why not take away Lucifer’s ability to feel, and solve this entire mess to begin with - to spare everyone of this never ending nightmare.

“You’re his failed creation,” Lucifer’s voice is against your ear and your eyes snap open, the red taking over your vision completely. “The one thing he wanted to forget about.”

“E _nough!_ ” Your voice comes out distorted, and the rush of adrenaline flows through your veins. If he’s so eager to pour all of this emotion and energy into your cup then you were going to _use it against him_. Like reaching into the connection and yanking it all out, you toss your hand back to throw Lucifer away and he’s tossed like a ragdoll up against the wall from your gesture. His power seeping through the connection and flowing into you, and he watches with amusement as you pull yourself off the railing with trembling hands and shoulders.

“You may have been God’s favorite,” Your voice comes out in a sneer and you thrust your hand out, and the wall beneath him cracks from the force. Your hand is against your chest, rapidly beating and the warmth is there, and soon the handle of his blade is in your hands - pulling it out and holding it out, the tip pressed against his neck. You push in enough to draw blood.

“But you forget,” You dig into his skin, and his smile is gone when the light of his angelic form bleeds through his vessel from the open wound. “You are _mine_ now.”

You wouldn’t forget what God had said, what he had _given_ you. Lucifer was _your_ guardian angel, and if the connection allowed you to dip into his abilities like this then you didn’t care if you were his failed creation. You had his favorite, and what better way to get back at the God that wanted to forget you than having his _favorite._

You don’t see through the smile on his face when you turn away and his vessel hits the ground with an echoing thump, or the way he watches you rush out of the room.

God may have tossed his plans for you but Lucifer? Oh, his were just beginning.


	7. Draft/Wip Rewrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll be slowly re-writing Fascination since when I first started it I didn't really know what I was doing.. and there's a lot of gaps in the story telling.
> 
> This is A DRAFT.
> 
> I don't know if I'll use it, i'm mostly using it to let those who used to follow my writing tumblr that I've made a new one. You can find it at:
> 
> [NEW TUMBLR](https://looking-for-my-light.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Feel free to follow, I'll be doing more drafts/wips/etc there as I try to figure out how I want to go about it.

**PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR COMMENT ABOVE IN REGARDS TO THIS SNIPPET**

It’s hot around you, burning against your skin and peeling it away. You want to scream but each inhale is like lava spilling into your lungs, you want to choke on it but you can’t move. Everything’s frozen in place, paralyzed by whatever controls this space, and despite your best efforts any movement is rendered in vain.

Instead you linger there, choking on the hot air that pours into you and peels away at your skin. For however how long until you realize you aren’t alone, there’s eyes watching you - a dark pair of red eyes. They seemed amused, intrigued even and your breath is caught in your throat for when you finally notice them they move. Slow lingering steps until they’re next to you, crawling above you and something’s cradling your face. Brushing away the hair that’s made its home across your face to get a better look at you, you can’t see whoever it is but you know they’re smiling.

You’re suddenly angry, a burst in your chest and rage bubbles forth- a feeling you’d never had so strongly. Desire to hurt, to take the person hovering over you and bash their rib cage in, you bare your teeth in anger. A feral snarl on your face accompanied by an angry shout, you want to hurt them and to get them away from you.

Whatever’s holding you in place snaps away and you lurch forward, hands against the person above you. Searching for their neck to snake your hands around and squeeze, but instead of a gurgled noise of gasping air- they laugh, amused.

You wake in cold sweat, tossing yourself up from the mess of blankets and pillows you’d fought yourself into. Chest heaving and eyes darting around, you can feel your heart ready to beat right out of your chest, and the anger from the dream is lost the moment you’ve woken up. Small gasps from your mouth and you push your sweat covered hair away from your face, shaking hands reaching toward the water at your bedside.

You don’t know who that person in your dream was, but you got the sense that you  _knew_ them, somehow. And that rage.. You’d never felt such a surge of unfiltered rage. It was exhilitarting in it’s own way, making your entire body trembling and a small part of your brain craved to feel it again.

To feel  _something_.

But the feeling is gone, and eventually so is the shaking and you’re only lead to believe that you made it up.

You don’t know what it’s like to feel, anyway.


End file.
